What Once was Frozen
by ThisVioletofMine
Summary: How different would things be if the Russians found Steve's frozen body instead? KGB spy Natalia Romanova is about to find out.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, Vanilla and I are back for another Avengers story! This one started out as a prompt on our other story, When Romance Equals Insanity, but it got long enough and detailed enough that we decided to make it its own thing :P**

 **We hope you enjoy!**

Natalia straightened her back ever so slightly as she was approached; she accepted his presence with a cool glance before looking back at the team that was digging something up from the ice.

"Glad you could make it, Black Widow - we have an assignment for you." The man informed her.

"Who's the target?" She questioned.

A small smirk crossed the man's face. "Captain America." She moved her head a fraction to look at him, which was all he needed to continue. "Seems the rumors were true; he's not dead. Found him frozen in the ice, _alive_."

Natalia gave a small, almost unseen nod. "And you wish for me to take him out."

He laughed, sending a chill down her back. "Now, child, don't be so closed-minded." He placed one of those disgusting hands on her back, and even though she could barely feel it due to the coat she was wearing, the knowledge of it being there made her feel uncomfortable and violated. "We want you to befriend him, become his lover, and turn him to our side. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Steve returned to consciousness with the ghosts of screams and blood in his mind. For what felt like the first time in his whole life, he sucked in a big, whooping breath, almost… surprised when oxygen flooded into his lungs. Startled, his eyes shot open and he sat up, immediately dizzy and having to steady himself with a palm against the wall to his left. Wall? Wait, where was he? There was a slight chill in the air, familiar and yet too insignificant to be from the polar winds seeping into the ship he piloted.

With that thought, the memories overtook his mind as though he'd opened some mental floodgate. Clenching his fists at the onslaught, he slammed his eyes shut- and not just as a reaction to the horribly bright lights that burned him. His head started to pound. How did he get here? How had he survived? He fought the urge to curl up into a small ball- panicking or not, he was Captain America, and he didn't show such fear. Especially if this strange place turned out to be an enemy's prison cell. The plain white walls hurt to look at with his growing headache. There was no decoration in here to be seen, not so much as a window- only a cot, a door- which looked to be heavily locked- a bedside table with a glass of water on it, and some sort of machine against the far wall. It looked like a TV, but… bigger.

He tensed when several sounds came from outside of the door. Like someone was disengaging whatever locks were in place. Was someone coming in? Steve tried to move to a less vulnerable position, but found that his muscles weren't quite responsive. He could sit up, move his head, and that was about it. How long had it been since he'd used his muscles? Had they atrophied? How would he be able to defend himself in this state?

The door opened a small crack and a figure slid in before shutting it behind them. A woman, small and with a head of blindingly red hair. He eyed her suspiciously- he didn't like the calculating look in her eyes.

"I see you are awake, Mr. Rogers," she said, not moving closer to him. "How are you feeling?" She asked, but it seemed more like a formality.

"Fi-" his voice was little more than a croak, and he took a sip of the water with a shaky arm before continuing, "I'm fine." There, that sounded more stable. "Where…?" Still, his throat hurt and he couldn't finish the sentence.

"Take a few more sips of water - you have been unconscious for a long period of time." The woman informed him before walking further into the room and picking up a box and placing it on his bed. "Lunch."

After hesitantly obeying her and drinking some more water, he inspected the box carefully. "Where am I?" He asked, not to be distracted. In the box was an apple, a container of soup, and a bottle of water. As he weakly pulled the lid from the soup and dipped his spoon into it, he eyed her intently.

"Russia - 2012." She answered shortly.

He almost dropped the soup onto the bed, but somehow managed to keep from spilling it. His blood turned to ice. "W-what? Two thousand and…" Surely she was lying! That would mean he was… unconscious for over sixty years! His hands didn't look wrinkled, and he didn't feel a day older, honestly. No, it just wasn't possible. "I don't appreciate being lied to." He said as strongly as he could manage.

The woman's stare was almost icy. "I could lie to you about a lot - the date, however, is not one of them." She informed him. "Tell me what proof you want, and I'll get it."

"Who won the war?" He asked almost instantly, not moving to eat. He suddenly didn't have an appetite.

"The United States, the Soviet Union, China, the United Kingdom, and France."

Steve sighed in relief, despite his still lingering suspicion that she might have been lying. "Alright, well… I want to talk to Howard Stark." He really did, although part of the request was a test- maybe he could trick her into admitting that she was lying.

The woman walked over to a drawer and opened it, bringing out what looked like a very small screen. "Howard Stark is deceased - although his son has been on the news recently." She placed the screen on the bed in front of him, showing a man with the clear label, 'Tony Stark is Iron Man!' "It has been nearly seventy years since you disappeared - or what everybody believed to be your death; most of your friends are either old or dead."

Steve stared at the image, dumbstruck. The kid was the spitting image of Howard Stark- Steve found himself believing the woman more with each piece of evidence she produced. "He's… dead? What about Peggy?" He almost feared the answer.

The woman sat on the bed and moved the images on the screen - what the? "Peggy Carter? Yes, she's still alive - currently in a care home."

Care home? Peggy… Steve felt the color drain from his face. "This really is 2012, isn't it?" He asked numbly.

"Yes."

He leaned back against the wall in shock. How had this happened? Why? "How did I…?"

"I am not a scientist." The woman informed him bluntly. "It's probably got to do with that serum running through your veins."

Steve stared at her. He felt like his whole world had crumbled before his very eyes. He had no family, no friends, no allies… Well, he'd have to start somewhere. "And who are you?" He asked belatedly.

She looked at him, her green eyes staring straight into his. "Natalia Romanova. I've been tasked to assist you in adjusting into the modern world." She informed him.

She seemed genuine enough… although her constant detachment made her hard for him to see as anyone he could actually befriend. He held out a hand hesitantly for her to shake, hoping she'd ignore how it trembled with the effort. "Steve Rogers." He replied, even though he was sure she already knew everything about him. She had an advantage over him that made her even more unreachable.

Natalia took his hand and shook it. "Eat your lunch, Steve Rogers. You need nutrients."

From the markings on his inner elbow, it was clear they'd been pumping him with plenty of nutrients recently. He was tempted to decline… except the look she was giving him demanded no refusal, and he _really_ didn't feel like making her mad. Begrudgingly he began sipping at his soup, ignoring how delicious it was out of spite.

 **Awesome, right? Totally awesome :) Please favorite, follow and leave a review telling us what you think! Chapters should be posted about once a week.**

 **'Evening, Lovelies!**

 **-Violet**


	2. Chapter 2

**Gah, I'm terrible at updating in a timely manner. Don't worry, readers of ANY of my stories- if you don't get any updates from me for a long time, it means I'm being either lazy or overwhelmed with other things to do- but I don't abandon stories, ever. Especially not ones like this one where Vanilla is constantly breathing down my neck to get this updated!**

 **Here is the next installment!**

After that Natalia lady left, Steve was bored. He had no one to talk to, to demand answers from, to complain at… He was finished with his food and now all he could do was stare at the ceiling and try to get his muscles to cooperate. He felt stronger now, but still uneasy on his feet, as he'd discovered when he tried to stand and went toppling to the ground. After a few hours of brooding, that strange TV caught his attention and he awkwardly crawled over to it- he hoped that no security cameras had caught that. He knelt in front of it and studied it curiously, examining its various buttons before reaching out and pushing one. Nothing happened. Frowning, he pushed another. Then another.

The screen burst to life, startling him backwards onto his butt. He stared at the _colorful_ images dancing across the screen- it was so detailed! A woman was doing some sort of dance- flamenco, if he wasn't mistaken. He watched it in awe. The sound quality was amazing, as well! It was as if he was right there in the crowd of spectators!

Natalia walked in. "What are you watching?" She asked judgmentally.

Startled, Steve jumped and looked at her sheepishly. "Just… the amazing dancing! This television…" His gaze was sucked back to the screen as he watched the beautiful display.

She took a look at the screen, placed down a box, and retrieved a smaller box thing from the drawer beside his bed. The volume on the television decreased. "I'll teach you how to use the control later - the live channels will be in Russian, so I'll bring some documentaries with me to assist you in catching up on important events."

Steve nodded along distractedly as he watched the colors on the screen. He frowned when it turned off on its own. "What? What happened?" He hadn't pushed the power button.

"A lot has changed, Rogers. I turned it off," Natalia informed him, putting that small box thing back in the drawer. "I've brought you some things."

Undeniably interested, Steve turned to see what she'd brought. "It's not more food, is it? I'm not that hungry."

There was a hint of a smirk on her face. "There _is_ more food, actually," she informed him. "But I thought you'd like to know what happened to everybody you knew." She pulled out some files and dropped them onto the bed. "And instructions to the TV."

Suddenly the TV was the least interesting thing in the room. He grabbed the files and flipped through them almost manically until he found a page with a familiar face. His heart clenched. _Bucky…_ Not much was known about the events leading to his death, but it had been concluded that he was, in fact, dead. Heart heavy, Steve flipped the page and read about Peggy, who was now old and frail, unable to do simple tasks by herself anymore. His eyes started to water, but, aware of Natalia's looming presence, he dashed the tears away and turned the page to read about Howard. Car crash, huh? It seemed like such an insult to everything that Howard was that he'd die in such a way- accidental, on a secluded road, no pomp and circumstance.

"If there is anything you think you want, tell me," Natalia told him. "Starting tomorrow, we'll start to get you caught up - and when you think you're ready, we'll let you leave this room. But you won't be ready for a while."

He wanted to argue that point, except that his legs barely being able to support him made his protests pointless. He simply nodded and closed the files- he couldn't bear to read any more of it. "And when can I go back to America?"

"You are not a prisoner, Rogers. But you are dead with nowhere to go- no family, no friends, and right now, nobody you can trust," Natalia reminded him. "There are hundreds of organizations out there who would be happy to take advantage of 'Captain America' - I just want you to get your ass out of the 1940s and understand how screwed up 2012 is. Got it?"

Damn it all. She was right. He had nowhere to go, not with Howard dead and his living friends unable to help him in any way. Sighing in defeat, he nodded. "Got it."

"Now - did you need anything?" She asked, pretty stiffly.

He glanced at the files from the corner of his eye, heart sinking anew. He sighed, shoulders sagging just a little. "A friend would be nice right now," he said with a humorless chuckle.

Natalia stood there for a long time, almost like she was a statue. "A friend? What kind of friend?" She questioned like it was the most absurd thing he could have asked for.

Steve shrugged - what was he thinking? Of course the stony spy wouldn't understand. "Just… company. My friends are all out of reach or dead," he explained, wondering why this was happening to him. He almost wished he'd just died in the ice, like normal people would have.

There was another long moment where she just stood there before turning and walking out of the room. He let out a short breath of... disappointment? Why was he disappointed? What had he been expecting? For her to just drop the stoic act and plop down beside him and start gossiping? Hell, he was never a gossip kind of person, but with the entirety of this new world being mainly a mystery to him, it sounded like a good pastime. Too bad he was alone. However, his little pity party was short lived as she returned with a chess board and placed it on the small table and began putting the black pieces on one side of the board. She then looked up at him expectantly. "Come on, then, you said you wanted company."

It almost seemed too good to be true. He stared at her dumbly for a good ten seconds before shaking himself out of it and carefully maneuvering past her to sit on the edge of the bed, opposite her. He awkwardly took the white pieces, setting them up in their appropriate spots before looking up at her curiously. "Why are you doing this?" He asked carefully.

"We don't have many games here and I'm not a talkative person. Whites move first," she answered directly.

Not needing further prompting, he pushed one of his pawns forward two spaces before studying her again. This seemed out of character, from what he'd seen of her so far. But, maybe he hadn't seen _all_ of what she was. He didn't know, but he hoped this wasn't some sort of spy tactic to turn him into one of them or something - well, even then, he supposed he was glad for some company regardless. "Thank you."

She nodded in acknowledgement but didn't verbally reply as she made her first move.

Steve smiled to himself and focused on debating his next move.

* * *

Steve stared, wide-eyed, at the TV screen, _nononononono_ running through his head nonstop as though his pleading could somehow change the outcome of something that had taken place several years prior. Still, however long ago it happened didn't stop his gut from wrenching as the second World Trade Center tower collapsed in on itself and came down in a cloud of debris and a horrible cacophony of screams and the sounds of various materials shattering. His eyes were the size of dinner plates, he was sure, but he couldn't bring himself to relax his expression. He'd never seen something quite so… horrifying. He'd seen plenty of deaths on the battlefield, and he'd seen his fair share of civilian casualties, but to see the mass destruction and the deaths of so many innocent people all at once… it was devastating to watch.

He wasn't sure he was so grateful anymore for the various documentaries his gracious hosts had provided him with. There was one on the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the Gulf War, and the one he was watching now, the 9-11 terrorist attacks. He was glad to be able to catch up on some of the big events he'd missed, but seeing all the wars and violence was just depressing, especially as those were the only topics he was allowed access to - well, he was allowed a basic timeline they'd pulled together, but the facts listed on it were just as grim. The first outbreak of the Ebola virus, the Challenger and Chernobyl disasters… He wondered if they were intentionally trying to depress him. Possibly. Or maybe they were just a bunch of pessimists who felt the negative moments in history were the ones most worthy of mention.

Natalia came in just as a giant cloud of ash and dust slammed into the person recording the twin towers' collapse. She took one look at the screen and rolled her eyes. "Why are you watching that crap?" She asked, hitting it off.

He looked at her incredulously. "Thousands of innocent people died! It's not 'crap'!" He argued. "I can't believe human beings can do that to one another."

"Steve - 2996 people died then, in comparison to the 60 million in the war that you contributed in. Thousands of people die each and every day - if it's in America or most places in Europe, everybody cares. But in smaller locations, like Africa, and nobody cares. Thousands die each day without anybody caring apart from their families," Natalia said blandly.

He was almost offended that she thought his feelings on the matter were that shallow. "I don't care so much that it was done _against America_ \- I care because lots of people died. Civilians. I'd care just as much if the same thing happened anywhere else in the world."

"Then you're one of the only people I've encountered," Natalia told him. "Get your shoes on, we're heading out." She made it sound like it wasn't a big deal - but he'd never been out of this room before.

Steve stared at her as he got to his feet carefully. "Where are we going?" He asked warily. Was this the point where they started torturing him for information?

"Outside," she answered. "Oh, bring your coat, too; it's snowing," she added as she waited impatiently by the door.

He couldn't find any deception in her tone - although she _was_ most likely highly trained in lying convincingly - and eventually decided he had nothing to lose. He grabbed the coat they'd supplied for him and slipped it on, moving to stand beside her as she opened the door. He watched it open with a bit of anxiety. What would be on the other side?

Natalia opened the door and it was just a grey, empty corridor. She silently led the way down it, turned left six times - did they go in a circle? Before exiting through a few doors which needed authorization before finally they were outside. All they could see was white snow. Literally nothing else was in sight. "Here, the outside, snow. Just like you keep nagging me about."

He _had_ been bugging her about having some more freedom, hadn't he? He looked around at the vast expanse of nothingness with a mixture of awe and dread. Just where _were_ they? "Wow," he said simply.

"We have half an hour - what did you want to do?"

What exactly was he supposed to do? Build a snowman? Have a snowball fight? Contemplate the meaning of each individual snowflake? There wasn't much an adult could do with the snow. "Can we just… sit and talk and admire the beauty?" He asked awkwardly.

He was sure she let out a scoff. "Americans are weird," she said aloud as she slowly and gracefully floated down to be sitting on the ground, right where she had been standing. He had meant on seats or a log, but not on the actual ground - that was a strange request.

He stared at her as she made no effort to catch herself and somehow managed to land softly and gently on the snow-covered ground. "Just a question - do the laws of gravity even apply to you?" He asked with a raised brow as he plopped down beside her.

"Of course," Natalia answered simply.

 _Of course_. "So… tell me something about yourself," he requested, still awkward.

Natalia glared at him. "No." She took a breath. "You have ten questions," she said, obviously forcing it out.

"Oh. Uh…" He thought hard on that. Ten things he wanted to know most…? "Alright, um… Who do you work for?" That seemed like a logical place to start.

"My employers," Natalia answered vaguely - hell, that wasn't an answer at all. "Next question."

"Hey, that doesn't count as an answer!" He objected.

Another glare. "The Russian government."

Great. The Communists. Why wasn't he all that surprised? Although he supposed they weren't called that anymore. "Alright, my next question… why do your employers want me? What do they plan to do with me?" He'd been dying to know that since he'd woken up.

Natalia huffed. "That's why I wasn't going to tell you I worked in Russia - you hear the word Russia and instantly believe that we're bad people, trying to kill babies in their beds or whatever lies were made up. We are not planning anything, we're just trying to fucking help your sorry ass - but if you wanted to go, then GO! I'm sure the Americans will search and find you! It's only been… oh, _seventy years_. And I'm sure they'll allow you to have a life, and won't try to take advantage of your lack of knowledge or anything."

Natalia was certainly abrasive when she wanted to be. He held his hands up in surrender, not liking his odds of surviving should he try and brave the miles upon miles of uninterrupted ground before them. He'd most likely freeze to death before he reached anyone who could help him. "Fine, fine. Sorry. Next question, then… um… how old are you?" That one kind of slipped out in his rush to find something to ask.

"Twenty-two."

He was almost surprised - she was only a few years younger than him; well, if that wasn't counting how long he'd been frozen. "You're rather young to be a spy, aren't you? Doesn't the training take years?" He asked, mostly teasing but still genuinely wondering.

"I-" She paused; it was only a short pause, but as she shifted in her seat to look at him, he presumed she was just uncomfortable. "I'm a beginner, hence why I'm teaching you about the world. Real spies don't babysit."

Something about that didn't ring true, but he didn't push it. "Question five…" He muttered thoughtfully, fingers absently digging in the snow. "Are you a born Russian? You have almost no accent, so it doesn't seem like you grew up speaking Russian." He didn't know if that was a sound leap of logic, but maybe the answer to that disjointed question would shed a little more light on where this mysterious woman came from.

"I am Russian and grew up speaking Russian," Natalia replied neutrally. "However, I also learned English and an American accent - Americans don't always understand Russian accents, and I felt like it would be more comfortable for you if I spoke in your mothertongue and accent."

Steve furrowed his brows. "How… thoughtful. Okay, uh, do you… have a significant other?" Damn, he hoped that hadn't come out sounding hopeful or anything.

"No," Natalia answered almost sharply. "That's enough questions for now."

Steve nodded, not wanting to anger his only friend at this point. "Okay, sorry. Did you have ten questions for me?" He had the feeling she knew more about him than he did, but it was polite to offer. Bonding exercises, and all that.

Natalia's eyes bore into his. "What do you want to do with your life now?"

He broke eye contact as the question struck a chord in him. What exactly _did_ he want to do with his life? Somehow get back to America and hope the army would take him back? What purpose did his life serve now that he'd outlived his original purpose? "I… I don't know," he admitted.

She stood up. "Let's head back in; we don't want you to freeze for another seventy years." She crossed her arms stoically as she waited.

"How else am I supposed to live forever?" He asked with fake indignance as he got to his feet. "Aren't you jealous of how young I look?"

"If you live forever, then you'll lose everybody you love - and that's not living at all," Natalia replied rather depressingly. "Come on, Rogers, we're heading inside," she said more sternly this time before turning back to the compound and walking towards it.

Steve shot one last glance at the unbroken expanse of snow before sighing, turning and following her back inside.

He didn't protest when he was put back in his 'cell', tried to smile in response to Natalia offering to drop in the next day - and failed - and sat heavily on his bed, burying his face in his hands. He didn't know what he wanted to do with his life anymore. He didn't know if there was anything _left_ for him to do with his life. He wanted more than anything to wake up from this nightmare world where he had no purpose, no friends, and nothing to fight for.

 **Poor Stevie. Oh well, he'll be okay at some point... :P**

 **Thank you for reading and following and favoriting and reviewing! Ya'll are the best!**

 **Have a great day, Lovelies!**

 **-Violet (and Vanilla)**


	3. Chapter 3

***Is kicked out of hidey-hole by a rather irate Vanilla***

 ***Hisses at the sunlight***

 **Have I mentioned that I'm a crappy updater? I feel like I have, but I'll say it again. I suck at updating in a timely manner.**

 ***Slinks back into hidey-hole and tries to become invisible***

Steve was reading through the newspaper he'd been provided - well, the five-eighths of the newspaper; several articles had been cut from the paper - when Natalia came to visit the next day. They chatted idly for a bit before he remembered something he'd meant to ask earlier. "Hey, is there any way I can watch the sports channel?" He asked curiously. "Or _a_ sports channel, I guess? I'm not sure what the TV listings are like these days."

Natalia muttered something about the male gender before grabbing the remote and switching on a badminton game. "Channels 409 to 463 are usually sports."

He wanted to be polite and gratefully accept what she had offered him, but he ended up furrowing his brows. "Are any of them baseball? I don't think the baseball coverage is in the-" he cut himself off before he could rattle off why the channel numbers were wrong, how his favorite sport was broadcasted on channel _ten_ , and bit back a groan. _You're not in your own time period anymore, Rogers. Adapt already._

"I'm not a sports follower," Natalia informed him, flicking through about seven channels before baseball appeared. "There you go."

A jolt of excitement went through him as the familiar white diamond was displayed on the screen, the commentators listing a player's skill set playing over the footage. This was something he knew and loved that was, for once, still alive and well today. He leant forward, elbows on his knees, and watched intently, even though the game was between two teams he didn't know. "Thanks," he said to Natalia, very much meaning it.

"No big deal - I'll leave you with your sports," she said, standing up. "I'll come back later."

He felt a pang of loneliness after she left, but the crack was quickly filled by the presence of his favorite sport, soothing like an old friend.

* * *

Natalia wasn't one to come visit him while he was sleeping, so when Steve woke up from a nap to find her standing by his bed, he was somewhat startled. "How long have you been there?" He asked somewhat suspiciously, feeling the adrenaline quickly leaving him. He had been exhausted the past few days for reasons he didn't know, and crashing from an adrenaline rush was the last thing he needed.

"We're moving to a different location," Natalia informed him, dropping some thicker clothes onto his bed. "Change."

Steve stared at her for a few seconds, speechless. "We're… what? Where? Why?" Suddenly all the questions were pouring out of him before he could really process them.

"Steve, I'll answer your questions when we're in the van," Natalia informed him before turning around and putting things into a large box.

He decided it was best not to argue and began changing his clothes, too tired to really care that she was in the room- she was facing the other direction, anyway. "So what brought this on?"

Natalia placed the lid onto the box, his bare room now even barer than it had been. "Timing works," she answered unhelpfully.

He had no idea what that meant. "What?"

"It's time to leave," she stated before picking up the box and turning to the door, which opened straight away. "Let's go."

Steve scrambled to catch up with her, wondering why she was being so vague. He followed her down the maze of hallways, noting that they were under the careful scrutiny of multiple officers as they went, and again he found himself wondering what exactly was going on. He didn't speak again until they had both climbed into a large van. "Seriously, what's happening?" He demanded.

"Stop your whining," Natalia scolded, starting the engine and speeding off out of the garage.

"I'm not whining- I'm confused. You said you'd answer my questions once we were here." Steve challenged, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. It was amazingly freezing.

Natalia glared at him for a considerable amount of time. "We weren't even moving yet - have some courtesy. You're being moved locations." She then turned her attention back to the road.

He scowled. "Yes, but to where?"

"Do you even know Russia? Would it make any difference?" Natalia questioned. "A bigger location - it's a nice thing."

Steve wanted to groan in frustration - what was it with this woman and not being able to give total answers? "Okay, so to another place in Russia. Any particular reason why?"

"We didn't want you to feel like a prisoner, trapped in."

He thought that over for a few minutes. What exactly were the motives of the people 'taking care of' him? He didn't know what organization they were, what they wanted from him, or how long they intended to keep him. How much of it was Natalia in on?

They didn't speak again for almost an hour before he sighed and turned back to her. "So what's the plan, then? Are you going to be commuting or am I going to have a new babysitter?"

Natalia sped up. "We will be sharing the premises."

"Really? Wow, you're really dedicated to this, huh?"

"It was my idea, but I didn't expect they'd make me have to reroute my life for you," Natalia answered pretty damn honestly.

He almost laughed. "So you're just following orders, then? You're not doing this because you can't stand to be apart from me?" He teased, batting his eyelashes.

"I am not really a social person. What do the Americans say… Bad bedside manner," Natalia said. "I don't usually work with people like you, or people in general."

"You didn't answer my question," he replied with a smirk. "You're totally in love with my amazing charm."

"Yes. I can't live without you," Natalia said with such sarcasm and monotone that Steve did laugh aloud this time.

"Good to know how much I'm needed."

* * *

A few hours later, they pulled up to a small brick building surrounded by more of what Steve had grown used to- snowy nothingness. "Is this it?" He asked needlessly as he pulled his gloves on without needing to be told.

"No need to sound ungrateful," Natalia muttered, turning off the engine.

He frowned at her. "I wasn't. Just asking a question." He decided he'd wait to get out until she did, because any extra time he could stay out of the raging blizzard that had picked up an hour ago would be immensely appreciated.

"You ask a lot of questions," Natalia stated before leaning into the back and grabbing her bag. She then opened her door and slid out of the car without saying anything else.

Working up his willpower, Steve followed suit, trying to work around the shock to his system that was the giant wall of freezing air rushing around him. "Such a lovely country!" He called out sarcastically, huddling into himself to conserve body heat and scurrying to follow her into the house. "What's it like in the summer?"

Natalia actually sent him a playful smirk. "It's August- this _is_ summer."

He actually stopped short for a moment in surprise before another gust of wind motivated him to hurry up onto the tiny front porch, waiting impatiently for Natalia to unlock the front door. "Darn- I was hoping I could buy a summer home here."

"We both know that the second you're allowed, you'll leave and never look back, ignoring everything we've done for you," Natalia stated before looking at him square in the eyes. "Did you want to grab your things from the truck?"

The sensation of being kicked in the gut from her words was quickly replaced by embarrassment. "Oh, yeah." And then that was replaced with begrudgement. Sighing, he gathered his coat tighter around himself and sprinted back to the truck, grabbing his bag from it before sprinting back, thanking God that she had the door open and he could get right inside. "Does it ever get even a _little bit_ warmer than this?" He asked as he slid out of his coat and soaking shoes. They were in a small room with two doors.

"Yes; it's November," Natasha informed him with a smirk as she closed the door and locked it. "Summers are nicer."

He stared at her. "I thought you just said it was August!"

She pretended to think for a moment. "Oh, did I?" She turned on the heating in the house, which was warmer than outside, but not by much. "Summers are usually hot and dry, so I don't see how it could be August."

Steve was tempted to roll his eyes, but he felt like she would punch him or something. She could get PO'd quicker than he could realize he'd said or done something wrong. "Lovely. Glad to know you're honest with me." He said, unamused.

She muttered something in Russian and slipped off her coat, hat, scarves and gloves, hanging them all in the cupboard behind the first door. "Ready for the tour?"

"Alright, sure." Although the house was rather tiny, so he was sure there wouldn't be much to the tour.

Natalia pushed open the second the door which revealed a large room with a set of couches around an unlit fireplace, with the kitchen behind it. "Living room, kitchen," she pointed, even though it was obvious. "Your room on the right, mine on the left - we each have our own bathrooms in our rooms."

Well, that was nice, at least. "And what exactly are we supposed to do to pass the time? We're kind of in the middle of nowhere. And how are we going to keep our supplies stocked?" He was pretty sure there weren't any grocery stores nearby.

"We are stocked up, and pass the time like you have been the last few weeks," Natalia answered, slipping off her shoes and walking over to the fireplace to turn it on. "Unless there's anything else on your mind?"

He didn't quite know what she meant by that, so he shrugged. "Is there a library hidden somewhere here? Or… a television?"

The fire lit up and Natalia stared at it for a few minutes, seeming to be mesmerized by it. She suddenly looked away from it and at him. "Oh, yes. Whatever you want," she replied.

That had seemed odd, but he didn't question it. "Well, I'll go put my things away…" He informed her awkwardly.

"Okay," Natalia replied, then called after him, "What did you want to eat?"

He paused in the hall. "What exactly do we have?" He was almost afraid the answer would be a variety of disgusting, strange foods that never spoiled.

"Chocolate, and nobody to stop me," Natalia breathed out, her voice travelling across the room. Her fingers were clenched around a bar of unopened milk chocolate.

Steve laughed and decided this was going to be much more fun than he'd thought. "I like the sound of that," he commented with a chuckle before heading into his designated room. It was small, but there was ample living space. The bed was a double, which was a significant upgrade from his cot back at the first place, and upon further inspection he found it to be _very_ comfy. There was a small desk against one wall and a small closet on the other, and opposite the door was the bathroom Natalia had mentioned.

He spent five minutes putting his scarce belongings in their places before laying back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling, enjoying the peace that permeated the house.

 ***Peeks out of hidey-hole***

 **Did you enjoy the chapter? We sure hope so! Please feel free to drop us a review!**

 ***Tries once more to become one with the shadows***


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